


Grains of Salt

by abitofarockyroad



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Backstory, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes Remembers, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Smut, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Protective Bucky Barnes, Running Away, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-13
Updated: 2015-07-30
Packaged: 2018-03-17 15:02:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3533852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abitofarockyroad/pseuds/abitofarockyroad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He leans forward, placing his large hands on the table. “You know me.” He states it as fact and you’re trapped, unable to contradict him. “I keep getting flashes, images of you. You were with me when I was – when I was him. And earlier, when I said my name, you looked like someone had punched you. Tell me why you reacted like that if you didn’t know me before now?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1.

**1**

_Her face – her eyes are heavy with fatigue, hair scruffy as she’s illuminated by sparks._

It’s over as soon as it begins, the next image appearing and disappearing.

_The needle and a quiet voice apologising, again and again –_

_Her face frozen in fear – terror – as she works and drills on his arm. The man above her nodding and murmuring to the people around him. And anger, quiet deep seated anger that he tries – fails – to hide._

_Pain._

-

The train station you were told to wait in was busy, people bustling around you as you try to focus on the arrivals board. You were pretty sure they wouldn’t be getting the train – it wasn’t there style – but it gave you something to think about, something to take your mind away from the staccato pulse in your ears, your sweaty palms, the buzz of your earpiece.

_4.15pm to New Carrolton. Please make sure to take all personal items with you –_

They had assured you over and over that you would be safe meeting them, that they had men placed all over the station if anything went wrong, that however bad this would be for you they were _sure_ they would send a higher up to get you themselves. And who would you be to give up an opportunity like that?

Nausea rolled in your stomach like a destructive wave.

_4.19pm to Largo Town Centre. Delayed._

Hydra had been your living nightmare for years before the whole operation was busted. DC gave you the only chance you’d had since being kept with them to escape, to go home. SHIELD – or what was left of it, the few lone agents and an ever changing but always equally decrepit location – had found you out after that, had wanted answers.

You just wanted to feel safe again.

_4.23 to Largo Town Centre – departing now. Please stand clear of the doors._

It was almost time.

A young woman bashes your shoulder as she passes, turning to yell something obscene before dashing off, lost in the bodies bustling to and fro. You barely register her, the blind panic beginning to set in as the large clock ticks toward the time of your meeting.

Who would they send? Surely – hopefully – none of the higher ups would send someone too important. The message you’d received hadn’t held much information on who would be meeting you, only that it was _them_ and where you were to wait.

The minute hand ticked on.

_4.25 to –_

You stutter out a gasp as a hand grabs your arm and starts leading you away just as a throng of pedestrians get off a newly arrived train, weaving around you and your aggressor as your dragged out of the building. You keep your eyes ahead – focused on not tripping – you can’t see who they sent.

“ _Don’t make a noise, don’t try to run.”_ The man commands you. You only have the capacity to nod in reply. You wonder at what point SHIELD will decide to make their move. “How many of your men are here?”

Your feet skid as he drags you roughly round the corner of a building, slamming you against a wall. You can feel your entire body shake with a fear you had tried your best to forget about.

Your thoughts grind to a jarring halt as you finally see your assailant. It’s him – him – The Winter Soldier. He wasn’t – he had dropped off the grid, why would Hydra send him after you? He’s scruffier then you remembered. His blue eyes are ringed by dark shadows, stress, but he looks more alive than he ever did in Hydra’s base. His anger is visibly unchecked, jaw clenched tight and cheeks flushed with red.

He growls at your silence and shakes you. “How many men?!”

You whimper as his metal hand clamps into the meaty flesh of your arm, the gaps between the metal plates pinching. “I – I don’t know!” Your voice trembles as you speak. His eyes narrow and you force yourself to answer him more clearly. “I think – think 8 or 9?”

He grabs your chin swiftly making you yell in alarm, tears beginning to form in your eyes as the hopelessness of the situation falls on you.  Did he remember you? Hydra would have wiped him before sending him out, he must be here to finish what Hydra couldn’t.  

He twists your head one way and then the other, inspecting you for an earpiece. You hadn’t even notice the people shouting on the other end until he rips it out of your ear, putting it in his before turning you around and marching you away again.

“Where are we going?” you ask, a desperate plea. He heads towards a bus stop.

“Somewhere we can have a chat. In Private.”  The feel like a mess of adrenaline and bile as he pushes you across the road without do much as a glance.

“Don’t look back.” He grunts as someone begins shouting behind you. You look behind you instinctively, spotting a man in SHIELD garb running toward you. He’s running fast but he’s too far away, the bus is pulling up, the only way he’d reach you in time is if you can slow Winter down. The thought crosses your mind that this might be the only chance you actually get to escape him even as bile rises to your throat and your breath starts coming in broken gasps.

He growls, his hand moving from your arm to land heavily on your neck, twisting your head forward again. “I said don’t look back.”

With your arms free it was a split seconds decision that made you act.  Willing all of the energy you had left in you, you swing your elbow out, landing a blow straight to his throat. He splutters and lets go of you in surprise, before he can recover you grab your Taser from your back pocket, shooting volts of electricity into his metal arm.

His arm clicks, ticking and whirring as it locks up momentarily, the calibration thrown off. You swiftly duck his reaching flesh and bone arm and push your legs to get you across the street faster, _faster_ , even as they tremble.

The agent is still running toward you, gun in hand as he shouts angrily into a mouthpiece. He’s just across the street now – so close.

A gunshot rings out, echoing around the street as your legs turn to rubber, stopping you in place. The screams start straight after – the agent bleeding badly – so much blood. You could only stare as your only salvation bled out onto the dirty concrete.

You cry out as Winter’s metal arm raps around your waist from behind, lugging you painfully onto his shoulder as he makes off with you. The people around you were too panicked, scattering to get away themselves, to help you.

“Let me go!” You scream, hoping someone will hear your panic. “I won’t go back there! Put me the fuck down!”

He drops you unceremoniously on the pavement and you freeze as he crouches down over you, staring at you with contemplative look. You feel exposed under his stare, your nerves open and frayed from everything that had happened. His dark eyelashes flutter as he takes in your features, almost as if perusing for something.

You sit silently as his gaze snaps back to yours, his blue eyes so clear your heart picks up its beat, he doesn’t remember does he?

“Let’s go.” He murmurs after a moment, grabbing your arm again. 


	2. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your eyes flicker, your tether to Winter becoming hazy as your strength seeps from your bones. Safe, you think, with a merciless kind of humour, is something you haven’t felt for a long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This ended up being ridiculously long. But finally the action has started, the story will get a lot more interesting from here. Feedback would be much appreciated! :)

_He’s cold. So cold. Confused. Angry._

_They’re all around him again. So many faceless people._

_But her._

_Her face is there, clear as day as she hurts him_ hurts him _so deep into his core that then next thing is all black._

_And then another one, faceless, controlling him._

_And he feels nothing but empty._

_-_

He’s still pulling you by the arm when you finally get away from the SHIELD members but he’s loosened his grip some, you were still in his control but it seemed he’d figured out you weren’t planning on trying to get away from him again.

You tried to control your breathing, tried to bring your emotions back under control. It wouldn’t help to be so overwhelmed if – _when –_ he got round to taking you to hydra.

_In for 4 – 3 – 2 – 1. Out for 7 – 6 – 5 –_

A café comes up as your walking and his grip on your arms moves down to your hand as he walks you through the door.

“Just act natural. Don’t cause another scene.” He demands gruffly. He sits you at a booth near the back of the café, away from any windows. The seclusion doesn’t help you tamp down your fear.

_In 4 – 3 -2- 1.  Out 7 – 6 – 5 – 4 –_

“What’s your name?” The gentle command of his voice startles you, you had expected him to be much rougher. But he was still the interrogator here, the power balance wasn’t lost on either of you.

You can only look at him for a moment, trying to get your dry throat to make a sound. He looks on patiently.

“Hey guys, welcome to Freddie’s. Can I get you anything?” A bored looking waitress breaks the tension between you, making you jump. She gives you a weird look when she turns to you, obviously put off by your dishevelled appearance.

“Two tea’s please.” Winter says kindly, giving her a smile that she returns cheekily.

“Sure thing, sugar.” She turns, swaying her hips in an obviously purposeful way but Winter’s eyes snap back to yours as soon as she’s facing away, the smile vanishing.

“(y/n).” You answer him quietly, staring at the salt shaker in front of you. A few grains had spilt onto the table and you counted them, taking your mind off of what was happening to you.

He repeats the name, testing it on his tongue. There were 38 grains of salt in total. You start to count them again.

“My name’s Bucky.” He mutters. You stop counting – somewhere around 24 – at this, shocked, you look at him but he’s looking at his hands, a frown on his face.

 _Bucky_?

The only time he had called himself that was - was before DC.  Does that mean he wasn’t working for Hydra anymore? A steady thudding was beginning behind your eyes. You rub your forehead in frustration, feeling the familiar dents there as you frown, noting your hands were still trembling.

“Wha – I don’t. I don’t understand.” Your chest felt constricted, like you couldn’t take in a full breath of air as he looks back at you, his frown matching yours. He wipes the salt from the table absentmindedly.

“What did you mean earlier, when you said you wouldn’t go back _there_? Where’s’ there’?”

Your frown deepens and he stares at you insistently.

Two cups are placed in front of you, the clank as the waitress puts them down gives you a brief respite from Winter’s gaze and you gratefully take yours. The warmth from the cup, the prod to your senses gives you something to tether yourself to, something to concentrate on.

“Can I get you guys anything else?” The lady asks, giving Winter a once over as he shakes his head at her, not letting his eyes of you.  She leaves.

You put milk in your tea, watching the black cloud and turn a caramel colour. Sipping lightly, you take a deep breath. “You don’t remember?”

He raises an eyebrow at this, leaning forward slightly. “Remember what?”  You stare down at your tea, throat closing up. “You did know me didn’t you?” His voice is angrier and you glance at his metallic arm warily, knowing the power it had. “Do you work for Hydra?”

You gasp, drawing in on yourself as he grabs your wrist tightly. “No,” You splutter. “No, I – I didn’t, _please._ ” The answering glare he sends you is so full of venom you feel your lip start to tremble again, your grip on the tea tightening.

He leans forward, placing his large hands on the table. “You know me.” He states it as fact and you’re trapped, unable to contradict him. “I keep getting flashes, images of you. You were with me when I was – when I was him. And earlier, when I said my name, you looked like someone had _punched_ you. Tell me _why_ you reacted like that if you didn’t know me before now?” 

“ _I didn’t have a choice!_ ” You yell, gripping the edge of the table and leaning toward him yourself, fire in your eyes. You remain that way for a moment, breathing heavily as you glare at each other, your heart beating like a jack hammer.

The ding of the bell above the door is what draws his attention first. Glancing around the room swiftly he pushes on your shoulder, leaving you to slump in your seat again. He continues scanning the room and you close your eyes.

_In. 4 – 3 – 2 – 1._

Your anger left you all at once, leaving you cold and unsteady, feeling so _tired_ from the onslaught your body had dealt with.

_Out. 7 – 6 –_

“We’re leaving now.” Winter whispers urgently, making you open your eyes to give him a confused look. You move as if to turn your head, to scan the café like he had but he hisses at you to stop. “They’re here, we have to go, _now._ Just get up and head to the back slowly.”

You do as he says, acting as casual as you could in your current state.

“Yeah, he’s sitting just over there. He’s with his girlfriend though. Weird couple, you know ‘em?” You hear your waitress saying from a few tables over as two men show her a picture. As you look at them instinctively they lock eyes with you.

Before you can think to panic a bullet is lodged squarely between the waitress’s eyes. Only Winter pulling on your wrist stopped you being in the same position as her. A cacophony of shouts and bullets and screaming followed the two of you as you ran out the back door of the building.

There were a group of men waiting outside when you stepped out. Winter swears under his breath before throwing you behind some metal bins, landing you heavily on your hip bone.

That’s when the gunfire starts.

A cacophony of deafening sound vibrates in your skull, the rattling tininess of the bin you hid behind as bullets rained over it, your own screaming. You hadn’t realised you’d clawed your own hands over your ears until they were being pulled away.

Winter wrenches you up by your wrists, propels you along beside him as he sprints toward an alley heading away from the main roads. You look behind you, out of curiosity maybe, see the bodies of the men lying there in different states of injury.

_IN 4 – 3 –  OUT  7 – 6 –_

“Did you do that?” You asked breathlessly, still being dragged by your wrist to follow him, already knowing the answer. He gives you a look like you already knew the answer and drags you a sharp left as more men, yelling and raising guns, appear in front of you.

Sweats beading on your forehead and you can feel your pulse in your toes as you’re forced to move faster and faster. The shouts behind you seem loud, too loud, but Winter moves faster still.

Two men appear from a side alley right in front of you, yelling in surprise as they raise their guns to you, one aimed straight to your eye socket, their fingers twitching over the trigger. You’re heart stops but the gunshot never comes.

Winter drops your wrist to grab hold of the man holding the gun on you, his hand bent back with alarming speed as a sickening snap resonates in the narrow concrete walls of the alley, his screams following them soon after. The second man fires off a bullet, then another and another.

The first whizzes over his shoulder, missing its target by an inch as Winter moved toward the second man, the second hit his metal arm, pinging solidly against it. You hear the bullet fly as if you had cotton in your ears, the noises of the normal world dulled around you as your heart was fit to stop altogether.

The third bullet lodges in the fleshy part of Winter’s side, pushing that side of him back with a grunt, but he continues forward like a destructive wave, unstoppable.

He grabs the man’s gun, yanking it up to his shoulder before slamming the butt down onto the agent’s nose, his skin tearing around the bridge, cartilage ripping in an explosion of red. The man falls straight down like layer by layer he lost the strength in his limbs, his hands cupping his broken face.

Winter allows himself to hold a hand to his bullet wound, hissing quietly, inspecting the situation. You hear the distant sound of shouting, barked orders, of more men who had likely heard the screams.

The first man starts dragging himself toward the gun again with his good arm, pained moans pouring out of him as his broken limb is held limply to his chest. The world around you comes rushing back with startling clarity as you notice the man is crawling toward you, as you realise with muted horror that his gun had fallen near you. Your attention is forced back to the moment, a decision had to be made, fight or flight.

You run your hands over the dirt that rolled underneath, slowly noting the sensation. Somehow in the middle of this fighting you had slipped to the ground, you’d barely noticed before, you’re eyes only trained on Winter as he rendered these people completely immobile.

The man’s agonised eyes stare into yours as he claws the dirt, hand almost on his gun but Winter makes your decision for you. He grabs your arm with firm fingers that feel strangely comforting, his warm flesh fingers heating your cold, clammy skin. 

“C’mon, we have to go.” He murmurs, dragging your lifeless form by the arm. You felt like you had lead in your legs that weighed you down aa you tried to keep up with the hunter before you. He pulled you into a large a back alley behind some dingy houses, a mother who was hanging out some washing frowned at the two of you as you passed.

Stumbling over your own feet, you pull Winter to a stop to rest your hands on your knees, gasping slightly in panic and exhaustion as you tried to process what kind of situation you’d been put in. You fall, back against the wall, to try and calm your racing heart. Winter sighs in irritation but takes the break to examine the wound under his shirt, allowing you to regroup for a moment.

You can’t stop yourself from looking at the oozing gash in his skin, leaking plasma, the skin flaring red and flapping away from where it should be. Everything catches up to you in one tug of your trachea and you lean to the side, roughly heaving tea and bile onto the concrete.

Shouting echoes from the alley you’d been in previously and before you have a chance to regain any semblance of sanity men come pouring out of the short alley like ants in an upturned nest. You’re faced with a wall of black clad men all shouting and aiming their impressive weapons.

Winter faces them, prepared, his body tense and on edge, ready to attack at any moment while you curled up against the wall. No one dared move, the only noise in the area being the clicking of guns, fabric moving together as people flinched and twitch, and your breathing which sounded heavy in your ears.

Before your opponents had a chance to make the first move Winter wraps his metal arm around your waist and smashes you through the glass back door of the house you were leaning against, buffering the fall with his body before hauling you up and onwards. The cacophony of yelling and gunfire starts behind you as you run again.

You’re caught before you can leave the house, more men running in from the front to block you off, you skid to a halt. Gunfire is getting closer behind and the men in front raise their weapons and open fire. Winter throws you to the side, behind a kitchen cabinet, your body thumping down as he pulls a knife from a magnetic rack and throws it, bullets still hailing around him.

It lands in the closest man’s chest with a sticky thud, blood spraying out of the laceration as he falls to his knees. You watch Winter pull the gun from his limp hands and take out the rest of the men covering the front entrance with a worrying sense of calm.

You jump toward Winter, legs feeling like stiff rubber, and grab his wrist, running for the front door just as the swarm behind you rushed in. You’re pushed in front of him but the shooting starts up straight, wood cabinets splintering under the fire, the sound deafening in your ears. You’re screaming without realising, only aware of Winter’s incessant pressure on your arm, pushing you away from harm.

Strangely, your vision begins to blur, black and white spots appearing and fading, as your legs fell from under you. Dully you felt a pinching sort of pain and noticed red on your hands, staining your shirt, Winter calling your name, but oddly you felt calm. You felt like floating.

The noise around you muffles and the kitchen blurs. Through the haze you feel Winter pulling you into a different room, his hand shaking your face, bullets still flying through the door of the kitchen. He pulls your hand to your shoulder and presses it down before leaving you. Your hand slides down almost instantly, your fingers sluggish with exhaustion.

Your breath sounds like a storm through your head and you try to breathe slower, steady, but your eyelids felt like glue, sticky and heavy.

In 4 – 3 – Out 7 – 6 – 5 –

The world balances between light and dark, slipping between terrifying noise and ringing silence. You don’t know how long you lay there in a stupor of exhaustion and confusion but soon Winter is lifting you up with an arm over his shoulder, your feet stumbling over each other as you struggle to follow the pace.

“(y/n)? (y/n)?” Winter growled, his hand slapping your cheek. You were outside, still in a relatively unoccupied area, what looked to be an industrial district, and you wonder if you’d be conscious the whole journey here. Had you walked far? You didn’t recognise anything. “I need you to stay awake now.” He says, hauling you up so your feet aren’t lagging as much.

“Where are we going?” You slur, your tongue feeling swollen, eyes beginning to drop.

“Somewhere…-“ he sighs, running the hand that wasn’t holding you up through his hair, stressing on the roots. “Safe. Relatively.”  

Your eyes flicker, your tether to Winter becoming hazy as your strength seeps from your bones. _Safe,_ you think, with a merciless kind of humour, is something you haven’t felt for a long time.


	3. 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He looks at you for a second more, his eyes following a path over your face before nodding once and moving to help you lay down. His hands slide around your waist to lower you back down, his flesh hand warm against you while his metal hand is almost shockingly cold, making your muscles tense and goose bumps raise where he touched.

**3**

The day has grown dark by the time you open your eyes. The first thing you register is the pain spreading throughout your arm and shoulder, an incessant throbbing that pulled you into consciousness impatiently. Groaning, you attempted to move, taking stock of the injuries you’d taken.

 “I wouldn’t do that if I was you. I’m no doctor, I did the best I could but don’t aggravate the stitches.”

That voice. With a sickening kind of realisation you recalled he’d been taking you away when you passed out. This dank, decrepit room was most definitely not a hospital. The panic rose in your chest like a wave crashing over your head, suffocating you.

With a small modicum of comfort you did, however, realise wherever you were wasn’t Hydra, whether that was a good or bad thing you didn’t know yet.

You struggle to sit up and take in where you were. He helps you up and props you against the wall you were sleeping next to, your mind shocking at the feel of his skin coolly pressing against yours as your mind grinds and jolts to understand what was happening. You breathe deeply once he moves away, leaving you resting as he goes back to attempting to wrap a bandage around his own arm.

In some kind of injury induced haze that obviously stripped you of your self-preservation instinct you wave him over to you, gesturing at his bandages. Maybe it was just a habit since- but no, you can’t entertain those thoughts here. “Let me do it, I can help.” He stares at you for a moment, an unreadable expression on his face before he eventually slides toward you, offering his arm.

Taking the gauze you unwrap it. Pulling it away from his arm completely you brush the wound underneath, even though it looks deep he shows no sign of pain. You expected no less. The gash was long and deep, seeping and bleeding still even though he’d had it wrapped. “I need to stitch it.”

He just nods, gets up to pass you the equipment he had. He places the needle, already threaded, in your good hand, your injured arm still laying uselessly on your lap. The needle is too thick and his flesh puts up resistance as you wind the wire into the hole in his skin. The silence is stifling and you talk just to break it.

“Where are we?” You mutter, focusing on his arm. He barely twitches but answers you still.

“Somewhere safe.”

At this you hesitate in your work to look at him, the odd choice of words giving you pause, it was the phrase he’d said before you’d passed out. “Safe?”

Finally he turns his head to look at you. His eyes holding the most emotion you had seen in them. Intimidated, you return your gaze back to his wounded arm but you can still see him looking at you out of the corner of your eye.

“I’ve been getting memories.” he states. This makes you pause again. This time you don’t look up, don’t want to. “At first I thought you were one of them, I thought _you_ were the worst one.” He says, and you don’t need to ask who _they_ are, the ones who had taken the both of you, Hydra. “I only had flashes of your face and I remember being so angry. It only made sense you’d be the first one I’d find.”

Finally you look up, a flash of fear running through you before it calms. He’s still looking at you intently and you feel like you can’t breathe, like your ribs were stuck together. “What made you change your mind?” You whisper.

“I had another one.” He takes a deep breath. “Another memory, clearer this time. They were talking about you, talking about your work.” You take a deep breath against the memories flashing in your mind. He glances at his arm in thought and you take the silence to go back to his arm. “You were as much a prisoner as I was.”

You tighten the last stitch in his arm and lean forward to bite off the thread, dropping the needle, it pings on the floor. Grabbing the gauze again you tell him to hold it and wrap it around his arm, tightly, securely this time. Steadfastly you ignored discussing his memories of you. When you were done you slumped back against the wall, drained already.

“I’m not safe here. “ You mutter. “I need to get back to shield.”

His head snaps to look at you and you feel yourself subconsciously curling into yourself, the feelings of vulnerability, of constant anxiety, that you were so used to creeping back into your heart in this situation.

“You’re not safe at shield either.” He grunts, looking away from your huddled form to stuff the tools he’d been using into a gym bag which you could see was filled with an assortment of clothes, medical equipment and weapons. You can feel panic crawling around in your chest, his statement confirming your worst theories. “Otherwise they wouldn’t have let you meet me…”

“That shield agent…” You whisper, your words falling out before you can stop them, the image of his body crumbling as the bullet exploded in his chest with a burst of blood – so much blood – the image plays in your head over and over and you find yourself speaking without thinking. “You killed him?”

His hands pause over his bag and he glances at you, hair falling over his bright eyes as they check you over, taking in your wide eyes and faltering breath. Slowly, he goes back to packing the bag, “I didn’t kill him, Hydra almost found you before I did.”

He takes in a low, calming voice, like you were on the brink of a complete breakdown but his words only dull your senses, the panic subsiding as a numb feeling encases your limbs. Escape was the only thing that pushed through your fatigued mind, your need to get back to shield overthrowing everything else.

“If Hydra-” The name stuck in your throat. “If Hydra is looking… for me, then I’m _only_ safe at shield.” The Avengers were the ones who’d made you feel somewhat safe after you got away from Hydra, Steve’s incessant questioning was the only thing that made you uncomfortable, his need to see the man you’d seen kill so many people though you could understand his pain. “Your friend Steve, he really… misses you.”

Winter’s body tenses noticeably as soon as the words leave your mouth and the hairs on the back of your neck rise, sensing the change in atmosphere that had come between the two of you. “Don’t talk about him.” He spits out and you feel panic run down your spine.

“But,” you take as deep a breath as you could, steeling yourself against his sudden change in personality, “he can help, he can take us somewhere safe.”

His metal fist cracks into the wall near your head with a juddering bang, your muscles going rigid and pulling together in shock as the trembling begins in your fingers. You try to keep your bottom lip from quivering as he lifts his head, his breathing ragged, to fix his hard gaze on your wide eyed one. “I said _don’t.”_ He grinds out, his words venomous as he spits them around clenched teeth. _“_ You can’t trust anybody but yourself.”

His head drops forward again after he says this, the fight in him waning as he comes back to himself. He moves to sit further from you again, eyes closed and breathing deeply to calm himself as he whispers out a small apology, his hand rubbing over his frowning brows.

“It’s okay.” You murmur in a small voice, your lips not working around the words properly as they shake, tears threatening to fall in your eyes as you try to get your emotions under control. He sighs, his face pinching as he takes in your obviously frightened appearance.

“Sorry, I’m sorry.” He grunts, moving to awkwardly grip the wrist on your good arm in an attempt at comfort, his warm fingers pressing into your skin with a reassuring intensity and oddly you feel your pulse start to drop. His bright blue eyes are deep set against his dark eyelashes that flutter as he looks at you, curiosity filling them. “You’re so different from the other Hydra agents… why did you stay?”

He asks you completely unashamedly, only seeking answers and you suck your bottom lip between your teeth to stop it from so obviously trembling. “It was my sister.” You whisper. You daren’t look at him but continue on anyway, hoping he was listening. “She’s younger than me but already smarter, gonna be a doctor we hope. They said they’d hurt her if I didn’t do what they said, if I didn’t help them fix your arm or – or help them wipe you. That probably explains your memories, why you thought I was a prisoner.”

He’s quiet for a moment and when you look at him his eyes are unfocused, anger playing on his features as he thinks on your words.

“They all deserve to die for what they’ve done.” His lip curls as he mutters this but the fire in his words is dulled by the way his eyes flutter and he almost crumbles where he’s sitting, the energy leaving his bones.

“You need to sleep.” You tell him, kicking him lightly to get him to come to attention before he passes out in that position, “and I need help lying down.”

“I’m fine.” He grumbles, leaning heavily on his metal hand as his body sags toward the ground.

“Winter, you’re not fine.” You try to sound firm but your own voice shakes with weariness as you realise just how drained you felt. He looks at you sharply at the sound of his name and seems to wake up a little bit.

“My name’s Bucky…” He mutters, face slack as he stares at you in surprise. He says his name like he’s unsure of it, like he hadn’t fully gotten used to it yet. You remember him telling you his name in the café but you must’ve called him Winter out of habit, the name you’d adopted when you were working on him.

“Right.” You nod, continuing, “ _Bucky,_ you need to sleep.”

He looks at you for a second more, his eyes following a path over your face before nodding once and moving to help you lay down. His hands slide around your waist to lower you back down, his flesh hand warm against you while his metal hand is almost shockingly cold, making your muscles tense and goose bumps raise where he touched.

You use your good hand to help him lower you, finally lying down with a small grunt of pain as he moves away to lie on his own makeshift bed silently. You close your eyes to sleep but can’t help but think over your conversation with Bucky and why your skin still prickled where he touched you.


	4. 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Be gentle.” You grunt as he tugs on your damaged body a little too harshly, your various cuts and scrapes twinging in pain. He looks up at you and says nothing but goes back to cleaning you off, softly this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is running away from me a bit. It's turn out very differently than what I originally planned but I kinda like it! It's gonna be a few more chapters I've decided, I'm not sure how many at the moment.

The first thing you register as your eyes open is the scuffling noise Bucky is making as he hurriedly stuffs whatever his hands can reach into his bag. Straight away you’re on edge, shooting up to find out what’s going on but you sag as the deep seated pain in your shoulder buzzes through you.

Bucky’s head snaps to look at you as you let out a groan in pain, his wild eyed look only serving to panic you as he moves toward you. “Good, you’re awake.” He says. Without a second glance at you he pulls the sheet that had been covering you away, the cold wind making you curl up, and shoves that in his bag as well.

Half-asleep and disoriented from your injuries you struggle to comprehend the situation as he stands and throws the bag over his shoulder, leaning down to pull you into a standing position even though you’re unsteady on your legs.

“Wait, what are we doing?” You ask. He throws your good arm over his shoulder and wraps an arm around your waist, half dragging you into the main room of what you could now see was a rundown factory, his face severe as he stayed mute. He leads you out of the building like this in silence until you were some way away from the building completely.

“They found us.” He says, breaking his silence. You push past the pain and fatigue that was rippling through your body to focus on what he was saying, icy dread clenching round your heart as you do. There could only be one ‘ _they’._

“How can you tell?” You say, glancing behind you curiously even as your eyelids drop, Bucky’s grip tightening around your waist brings you back to focus on him, his profile severe in close up view, as he checks your surroundings. It was still early morning, the sun had only just risen above the buildings of the city block and the roads were already busy with people heading to work.

“I’ve been part of them for a while, doll, I know the warning signs.” He mutters, dragging you sharply to the left and onto the pavement, both of you weaving into the throng of pedestrians. You don’t think too hard on his words, distracted instead by the looks passer-by’s were giving you.

You take stock of how the two of you looked, clothing covered in sweat and grime, splattered in places with red that you were sure was garnering most of the attention, your hair unbrushed and unkempt. You were sure the frantic look in his eyes were the same in yours too, both flicking too quickly between people as you hurried along, lingering too long.

“Bucky,” you say, “it might be an idea to get some clean clothing...” You mutter, trying to look like a sane and normal civilian rather than a half dead girl on the run as you clung to Bucky for support. He frowns as he looks at you and then down to himself, his dark eyebrows pulling together only serving to make him look harsher.

Without knowing why you raise your hand to his forehead and place your thumb over the space between his brows gently, holding your hand to his face as you push the frown away. His face goes slack but it seems to be more in shock than anything else.

“You should try and look less like you could kill a man at any second as well.” You say right before your legs give way beneath you.

Bucky catches you with a strained grunt of annoyance but lifts you effortlessly and you hold onto his neck as you try to stay awake. “You need to come to your senses.” He says. His arms feel strong around you and the gently sway almost lulls you into a sleep but you resist, nodding against his chest to show him you’d heard.

“Find a clothes shop, or just a shower. And I’ll need some proper food and painkillers. Then I’ll be good to go for a bit longer.” You say.

He pauses in his step and looks around for a moment before spotting whatever he was looking for and heading there with purpose, jogging you around as he strides forward. The rougher journey helps to keep you awake and, feeling more alert, you notice where he was going as you neared.

He places you down outside the gym and you sway slightly on your feet but concentrate and plant your feet firmly, determined to stand on your own now. Linking his arm around your waist casually he strolls with you into the building, looking to the rest of the world like a couple running an errand.

“Hello,” the clerk at the counter says, her face pinching at the obviously ghastly sight of the two of you but she didn’t say anything against you coming in. “Can I help you?”

“We’d like to use the gym please.” Bucky says. He drops his duffle bag and his arm around your waist momentarily to dig for a dingy wallet. You can feel yourself reeling toward the ground slightly without his support around you but you grit your teeth and try and stay firm on the ground until he stands and wraps an arm around you again.

“Oh I’m sorry,” the woman says, looking disdainfully down at his wallet before giving us a mock look of apology, “the gym can only be used by membership holders at this gym. Do you have your membership cards?”

Bucky rolls his eyes at her and places a palm on the desk, leaning towards her in an almost threatening but not overly aggressive way. “Then give us something we don’t need a membership for.” The glower he trains on the girl is subtle but sinister, his wide cerulean eyes staring from under dark brows and strong jaw clenched.

You want to tell him not to sound so harsh, to make it less obvious he was as dangerous as he was but your tongue felt heavy so you let him continue. He quirks a dark eyebrow and the woman, flustered at his behaviour, quickly types something on her computer, “Uh, you don’t need a membership to swim?” She asks, uncertainty colouring her voice.

Bucky smiles mockingly, “Perfect.” And the woman hurries to print out your receipts when he hands over the money for them, taking them in exchange. She stares with a frown as he leads you through the barriers and into the changing rooms, half-dressed adults and kids hurrying around as they go to swim.

Bucky shuffles you into a shower cubicle and you sit down heavily, your tired limbs screaming in relief. Luckily, the gym you’d come to was relatively posh and the showers had their own large cubicles so you could wash the gore off of you in some privacy.

Your eyebrows furrow as Bucky locks the door behind him, not leaving as you’d expected. “What’re you doing?” You ask. He turns to you and gives you a withering look before turning away from you to search in his bag for something. You rest your head against the wall and wait for him to find whatever he was looking for.

Eventually he shoves the bag the bag away with an annoyed humph and runs a hand through his hair, looking at you in thought for a moment. You stare back, too tired to feel awkward under his gaze until he nods, his decision made. “Lock the door after me.”

He bangs the door on his way out and you allow yourself to close your eyes briefly as you’re left alone. Being too tired to actually get up from your seat you raise your leg and press the door closed with your foot instead of locking it, and your mind starts to run wild with thoughts over your current situation.

So much had happened in the last few days that you hadn’t had time to process at all. Whether you liked it or not in some kind of twist of fate you’d found yourself rely on someone you were sure would have killed you without a second thought at one point in time, someone you were infinitely sorry to.

After you’d escaped from Hydra the first time you had tried so hard to return to some semblance of normality, trying to forget the years they’d made you watch as they hurt Bucky over and over, made you assist them as they hurt him. All those familiar feelings of fear and anxiety have come crashing back to you since Shield had asked you to play bait, leading you right to Bucky. Oddly you didn’t find it as jarring as you originally did, your body almost reverting back to a natural kind of state.

Most strangely you found that you actually felt somewhat safe with Bucky after your shared experience. His support the last few days had probably saved your life more times than you’d know but there was still part of you that knew you’d have to go back soon. Shield would want to know you were safe. Steve would want to know Bucky is safe.

Just as you were deliberating over how much you didn’t want to bring that conversation up with Bucky again the door slides open, your foot thudding to the ground as Bucky steps in holding a pile of clothes in his hands.

“Did you steal those?” You ask incredulously. He lets the pile fall onto his bag and you see he’d grabbed a few women’s shirts and jeans, the same for him and two towels.

“Priorities, (y/n).” He mutters as he pulls his shirt over his head without a second thought. You sit up straighter in your seat, an unexpected heat blossoming over your chest as he throws a towel at you.

“You’re not…” You peter off as he undoes the buttons on his jeans, dropping them to leave him in only his boxers as he turns to listen to you. He stares at you innocently as he waits for you to continue and you gulp, a sudden nervousness flooding through your system at being in an enclosed space with such a man. “You’re not planning on shower _here_ are you?”

He pauses at this and one side of his mouth twitches in a smile slightly. Your mouth pops open in surprise, never since you had known him had you seen him smile once. His face looked brighter and less burdened when he did and found yourself strangely drawn to it, a desire to make him smile again filling you.

“Could you stand in there on your own if I left you?” He says.

You scoff but the numb feeling radiating through your body belittled the false courage you were showing. Still you pushed yourself up in an attempt to show him you were capable of showering without a chaperon but your legs crumpled beneath you almost instantly.

Bucky rushes forward to catch you and you wrap your hands around his shoulders instinctively, your head lolling against him. You look up at him even as your eyes dropped to see him looking at you in concern.

“Okay,” he sighs in understanding, supporting you toward the shower, “just leave your underwear on and I won’t look. Promise. I don’t trust you not to pass out if I leave.”

Feeling awkward you just nod, rigidly taking off your sodden clothes and letting him manoeuvre you into the shower, sitting you down against the wall and turning the shower on. The water beats down on your sore muscles in soothing streams. A sigh escapes you as you feel the tension seeping away from your muscles as the water around you turns a muddy red, the calming feeling enough to make you forget to be embarrassed.

The awkward feeling returns however when Bucky pulls out a wash cloth and some shower gel and takes your good arm, rubbing the cloth over it none too gently. You wince at the abrasive material on your bruised skin but you actually feel clean for the first time in days so you let him continue, your body flushing under the hot water and his ministrations.

“Be gentle.” You grunt as he tugs on your damaged body a little too harshly, your various cuts and scrapes twinging in pain. He looks up at you and says nothing but goes back to cleaning you off, softly this time.

You let your eyes close as he cleans you off, the lack of energy in you making your body feel heavy and Bucky working over your sore muscles lulling you into a kind of half sleeping stupor. He dabs delicately around the bigger wound on your bad arm, trying not to aggravate the raw flesh there while he cleans away the grime.

“I feel like I should thank you.” You say. Your voice is much weaker than you wanted it to be and you can’t open your eyes still but you knew he’d heard you. The fatigue was making you loose-lipped and the words tumbled out of your mouth before you could think about them. “You don’t know how hard it was to – when they’d make me work on you. I think part of me thinks I deserved whatever you planned to do that day when you found me, that’s why I agreed to play bait for them but -but you saved me.”

He kept on quietly cleaning you, moving to wipe away the dirt on your chest and neck and you’re glad that the hot steam hides the blush on your skin now. Every now and then his fingertips would skim over your skin, causing little shivers to run down your spine but you ignored them. He didn’t answer you for some time and you’d almost fallen into a light sleep when he replies, so quietly that you would’ve missed it had he not been so close.

“You don’t need to thank me…” He says. You open your eyes and lock your gaze with his. There’s emotion hidden in his fierce gaze but can’t pinpoint what it is. He purses his lips together and moves away rinsing the wash cloth. “They hurt the wrong person…”


End file.
